Presumption
by emeraldorchids
Summary: Miranda/Andrea (no twins, no Stephen). Miranda overhears her assistant and presumes she's the subject of the conversation. In Progress.


"That is none of my business. Please stop calling me. Thank you," Andrea said, hanging up the phone for possibly the third time that morning. She looked up at Emily who was pretending she didn't hear that conversation. "I'm going to see if those samples are ready in the Closet," she said as she stood and walked down the hall.

Four months ago, Miranda Priestly hired her on a whim. She wasn't like any of the assistants who had previously worked at _Runway_, and everyone was still trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.

While everyone spent the majority of their time complaining about Miranda's leadership style, Andrea took the opportunity to sit back and observe. Miranda was certainly capable of living up to the monikers bestowed on her by the press, but there was more to it than that. Andrea soon saw just how effective a leader she was. She once said, "It's amazing what you can get if you quietly, clearly, and authoritatively demand it," and Andrea was shocked to realize how truthful that statement was.

Sure, she complained about the woman like everyone else. Miranda worked her employees like no other, constantly driving them to perform better, quicker, and smarter. Sometimes it felt like torture, but other times, the end result was worth the effort.

The samples were not ready when she arrived at the Closet. She knew they wouldn't be, but she needed an excuse to get up from her desk.

"Andy, I told you we wouldn't have these until at least 2 PM. We need another hour or so," Jocelyn explained.

"I understand," she said. "I told Miranda I would personally come check on our progress, that's all." In reality, she told Miranda no such thing, but she knew no one would dare question Miranda's word.

Jocelyn sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, um, come back in twenty minutes. I'll have the first two sets ready. By the time Miranda gets through them, I'll deliver the third myself."

"Great," Andrea said. "Thank you so much, Jocelyn. I think she'll be really pleased with that."

When she first started, she felt guilty lying to her peers and coercing them into working harder. Now, she hardly even flinched.

Sure enough, within an hour, Miranda had the full set of samples to peruse, hours before she had been expecting them. Another crisis averted, she thought.

Later that evening, Emily had gone home and only Andrea, Miranda, and a handful of operations staff remained in the office. Being the most junior assistant, Andrea was always the one to stay at the office after hours with Miranda.

The telephone rang, and Andrea immediately recognized the number. Seeing that Miranda's office door was closed, she picked up the receiver and turned to face the kitchen.

"Hi Mom."

"Andy. Honey, don't get mad at me."

"Mom, I'm not. It's just—you are blowing this out of proportion."

"She's going to turn your sister into a lesbian!"

"Mom! Stop it! Jill is a big girl and can make her own decisions. The fact that she's been spending a lot of time with her new boss does _not_ mean she's turning into a lesbian. Oh my god, there are just so many things wrong with that statement."

"Andy, you have to admit that it's strange. Now, you aren't going for coffee and lunch and happy hour and shopping with your boss, are you? I don't do it either. It's not right," she said.

"Mom, that's an erroneous comparison. One, I work for Miranda fucking Priestly. I do not believe it would be appropriate to compare her to any other employer in the history of employers. Ever."

Just then, Miranda opened her office door and stood in the doorway. Andrea, who still had her back turned, was talking animatedly on the phone.

"Two, just because a smart, beautiful, powerful, independent woman is single does _not_ give you the right to make presumptions about her sexual preference!"

"Andy, now calm down. You don't even know this woman. Why are you so defensive?"

"No, I don't, but it shouldn't matter. How the woman chooses to live her life is her business, not mine, and certainly not yours. If she's a lesbian, great. If she's straight, great. If she's looking for a partner, I hope she finds someone who can love her how she deserves. If it turns out that she's perfectly content living by herself, I hope to god that people like you will lay off her fucking back. As I said before, _do not call me_ about this again!" Andrea said, quickly spinning around in her chair and slamming the phone back into the cradle. "Ooh!" she gasped, seeing Miranda standing in the doorframe.

"Andrea—"

"Miranda, I'm so sorry for the disruption," she said, gently biting her lower lip.

"Andrea, while I'm flattered, you needn't defend me so vehemently. People will say what they will."

Andrea stared at her, dumbfounded. "H-how much of my conversation did you hear?"

"Enough," Miranda said. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. I would prefer, though, that you would simply reply 'no comment' as these conversations sometimes make their way into the papers and words can become twisted."

"Again, I apologize. Just so we're clear, though, I was speaking with my mother, and we were discussing one of my sister's friends."

Miranda's eyes widened as she inhaled sharply.

"But I do believe what I said one hundred percent. No one has the right to presume such things about anyone, and I sincerely apologize if that has ever been directed at you."

Miranda pursed her lips as tears welled in her eyes. She hurried back into her office as the tears began falling down her cheeks.

Andrea felt horrible. As much as she was sure Miranda wanted to be alone, she needed to check that she was okay. She quietly made her way into the editor's office and was surprised to see the woman sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of her desk.

"Miranda, may I sit?" she asked, gesturing at the chair next to her.

The woman nodded as she dabbed at her eye with a tissue.

"You must know it was not my intent to stir this up," she said. "Do you want to talk about it at all?"

"No," she said. "It's just—there's so much pressure."

Andrea softly nodded. So much for not wanting to talk about it, she thought.

"I used to make sure I was photographed on the arms of men, just to keep the questions away. Somehow, it was easier to deal with the question of how many men were in my bed on a given weekend than…well, than the alternative." She paused for a moment. "I am straight, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't, because it doesn't matter to me, but thank you for sharing."

Miranda sighed. "I've been married. I've had live-in boyfriends, one-night-stands, friends-with-benefits, and just about everything in between. At the end of the day, I prefer to be alone. Why is that so hard to understand?"

TBC

A/N: It's been forever since I've written anything. This is far from being finished and I can't say that I totally know where it's going, but I'm hoping that by posting a little bit of it, it will pressure me into writing the rest. Let me know what you think!


End file.
